


Desperately

by photographer_of_thoughts



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Declarations Of Love, Desperation, Falling In Love, Films, Happy Ending, Interviews, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, On Set
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photographer_of_thoughts/pseuds/photographer_of_thoughts
Summary: Timmy didn’t have to fake the longing stares; the gazes that lingered too long. Putting himself into Elio’s emotions when it came to Oliver wasn’t hard at all. It was the easiest thing because Elio was Timmy and Timmy was Elio.And Armie would always be Oliver.





	Desperately

**Author's Note:**

> So, I posted this a while ago and then decided to take it down because I still felt weird about posting RPF. I began thinking it was an invasion of privacy for the actors and blah, blah. But, I've kinda come to the conclusion during the past few months that this kind of fic isn't an insult to the actors. I'm not saying anything about the actors personally because this is actually just fiction - based on the fact that their work (the film) was immensely inspiring. 
> 
> So, have it back fandom. :) Hope you enjoy, because I actually really enjoyed writing it.

_“It’s strange that things change, but not me wanting you so desperately.”_

**Now  
**

The worst thing – the absolute _worst_ thing – was his age. This time of his life. Being nineteen, almost twenty and to be doing a film like this is just fucking with everything; every bone in his body, every emotion, every piece of dialogue he has to string together to become Elio.

Because he’s never felt this way before.

There hadn’t been a “first” like this for him yet. There isn’t anything to compare it to; not really. Not when you consider the amount of time spent together. The dependence on each other. The every evening talks, the everyday filming and bike rides and tanned, too-hot skin from too many hours in the sun.

There hadn’t been anyone in his life like Armie. There hadn’t been this instant connection, this luster for what they were doing; the common ground they shared despite the ten years weighing between them.

Timmy didn’t have to fake the longing stares; the gazes that lingered too long. Putting himself into Elio’s emotions when it came to Oliver wasn’t fucking hard at all. It was the easiest thing because Elio was Timmy and Timmy was Elio.

And Armie would always be Oliver.

Because there was a man that was slowly destroying Timmy’s heart, slowly making him realize that love was boundless; that he would gladly stake his _own_ life on dreams if it meant this summer wouldn’t end. Because this summer was a dream. A deliriously, intoxicating dream that was well on its way to ruining Timmy’s life.

And that was well on its way to being over.

**

“Timmy?”

He had been lying on his stomach, reading a book Luca had recommended a week prior. He didn’t want to watch Netflix or play videogames tonight. Timmy wanted to stay in the haze of the film, pretend it was a time when there wasn’t endless shows or movies he could watch on devices that hadn’t been invented yet. He wanted silence, to hear the rain pattering outside his window.

Armie had been gone all evening, tucked up in his own apartment Skyping his beautiful family. Timmy had waved him off after their afternoon of filming, avoiding Armie’s gaze that held too many questions.

He thought he’d be home free tonight.

Apparently not.

“Hm?” Timmy managed, not looking up from his book. Armie had let himself into Timmy’s place, a habit of theirs that was once so intimate and friendly it put endless smiles on his face.

But now.

_Now._

Timmy wished he’d locked it.

“You’re upset.” Armie sighed, walking in and toeing off his sandals. Timmy, being on the floor, looked up slightly and watched Armie’s tanned feet approach him; stand in front of him.

Then Armie’s face came into view as he bent down, his eyebrows raised. Concern all over his face.

“No. I’m reading.” Timmy stated, not giving in and looking into Armie’s eyes, not holding any sort of gaze.

_I’ll die if you make me._

“Can we talk?” Armie asked, whispering the words as if he were afraid someone other than Timmy would hear them.

“Sure. What’s up? How’s Liz doing?” Timmy asked, pushing himself up off the floor and walking over to the small fridge in his room; his back to Armie. “Want a drink? I have water and juice and…”

“ _Stop.”_ Armie said, his hands suddenly on Timmy’s waist; pulling his small body back until he was flush to Armie’s front.  “Please stop.”

Timmy knew he was shaking. He’d been shaking all day. Today they’d filmed the scene where Elio follows Oliver into town, hesitantly admitting that he wants to be with him again. And then Oliver says how glad he is that the two of them slept together.

Timmy had nearly cried when Armie got close to him, when he put his hand on Timmy’s wrist and said “I’d kiss you if I could.” Timmy had bolted away from him as soon as Luca had called ‘cut’, grabbed the bike and rushed off down the Italian street; ignoring the calls of the crew and Armie to come back.

He’d laughed it off later, saying it was a joke; pushing Armie as any straight man would and said something along the lines of ‘ _I didn’t want you to see how much you affect me. Those eyes, Armie! God. I’m so in love with you.’_

Luca had laughed. Everyone on set laughed.

But Armie.

Armie hadn’t laughed. He’d looked sad – _crushed –_ even, before turning away and telling Timmy goodnight.

And Timmy had stood there hoping nobody saw right through him; that nobody understood just how true of a confession it had been. He’d realized right then that he’d never said anything truer.

He _was_ in love.

“No, _you_ stop!” Timmy suddenly yelled, turning around and pushing Armie with all the force he had; making the taller man stumble back. “You can’t just…just _do_ things like that!”

Armie swallowed hard, nodding as if he was agreeing; as if he was admitting that he’d crossed a line. It just made Timmy angrier because he felt placated, like Armie saw him for the stupid kid he was; the stupid kid he would always be to the one person he was dying to have see him as an adult.

“Fuck you! Fucking hell, just _fuck you!”_ Timmy continued, getting up in Armie’s face and hitting his solid chest with his small fists.

Great.

Now he was having a temper tantrum.

“Timmy, it’s okay.” Armie whispered, just standing there and _taking it._ He was letting Timmy hit him, letting him do whatever he wanted and it was making Timmy _crazy._

“I hate you. I hate you so much.” He kept saying, realizing too late that he was sobbing the words, tears streaking down his face; his punches slowly stopping, slowing turning into a clinging embrace.

He pushed his face into Armie’s neck and bawled, screaming out his sadness. Armie had pulled him up so that Timmy could wrap his legs around Armie’s waist, doing it easily like Timmy was a feather. He walked them over to the bed and sat down, Timmy in his lap now.  

“Deep breaths. God, Timmy, you have to breathe.” Armie whispered, running those big hands down Timmy’s back again and again, as if willing the breath to fill his lungs; make him relax.

“I can’t. I _can’t.”_ Timmy sobbed.

_I love you and I can’t._

**

**1 month earlier**

“Seriously?” Armie chuckled, the sound awkward and forced. He was looking between Timmy and Luca, a deafening silence filling the air in the backyard of the villa.

“Yes. Have to the break the ice at some point, right?” Luca hummed, shrugging his shoulders.

Timmy had started sweating and he couldn’t blame it on the weather right now. The day was hot but the idea of their first rehearsal being a make-out scene was what was making the blood pump hard in his ears, making his thin shirt cling to his back and armpits.

_Fuck._

He spared a second to wonder if his breath smelled okay before Armie was sitting next to him in the grass, again letting out a laugh that wasn’t funny or genuine. He was _nervous._

“Whenever you’re ready.” Luca nodded, looking professional and put together which was insane to Timmy. He felt like he was about to shatter at any second. He felt like he was going to embarrass himself incredibly badly and make Armie and Luca wonder why the fuck he was here in the first place.

He couldn’t act. He couldn’t do this. Game over.

But he didn’t have time to properly freak out.

Armie suddenly leaned over and cupped his face, forcing his chin up to meet his and then in the next second they were kissing. Like, for _real_ kissing, in a director’s backyard on a hot summer day in fucking Italy.

What was his life?

Timmy kissed back, on autopilot, knowing how to kiss. He knew how to move his mouth, knew how to map out the shape of someone else’s lips with his tongue.

Kissing was easy.

Totally easy.

It took about five long seconds for him to realize that this wasn’t something he knew. Not at _all._

He hadn’t felt stubble on his face before, rubbing roughly against his small chin; the skin around his mouth. He hadn’t been held so tightly by someone _bigger_ than him, someone so much older and more experienced. He’d never opened his mouth as wide or felt as consumed by something. He’d never ached for someone within ten seconds of a kiss starting. He’d never shifted his body to feel skin as quickly. He…

Shit.

He couldn’t _breathe._

“No, no, no.” Luca was suddenly saying, prompting Armie to move away so fast that Timmy nearly lost his balance. Which was stupid because they were _sitting._

“What?” Armie asked, sounding panicked. “Did we…are we…umm.”

Timmy tried to chuckle but the sound got stuck in his throat.

“I want you to kiss Timmy like you _want_ to kiss him.” Luca said, exasperated.

“Oh.” Armie stuttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I…”

“But Timmy,” Luca interrupted. “Great start. I could feel the passion there, right away. Good job.”

Timmy felt himself blush so hard it was almost painful. _Jesus_. What if Armie read into that too much? What if he thought Timmy was genuinely turned on by this? What if this ruined all the groundwork they’d made together, becoming friends, hanging out all the time? What if everything was going to be weird now?

“Sorry, man. Let me just…get in the zone.” Armie said, catching Timmy’s eye. Again, he looked sheepish. Armie looked like he was being scolded by a parent and was trying his best to prove he could do better.

He looked so uncomfortable doing this and it made something in Timmy break, made him move a little closer and run a hand through the older man’s hair; wanting to comfort. Wanting Armie to know this wasn’t easy for him either.

“Hey.” Timmy said, smiling. “We’ll figure it out, right?”

Armie let out a shaky breath before nodding, scooting closer as well. Timmy tried to pretend it was just them, that Luca wasn’t hovering over them like a helicopter, inspecting them. He tried to concentrate on being what Armie needed, on figuring out how the fuck he was supposed to pretend to _desire_ this man. He thought back to the novel, how Elio’s want of Oliver was noticeable in everything he did. How over-the-top awkward his thoughts were, the way he imagined doing so many things to Oliver.

Timmy tried to find that head space, tried to see Oliver in Armie. Tried to imagine living and breathing for only this man.

“I like when you pull my hair.” Armie whispered, close enough that Luca probably didn’t hear it. “Keep doing that. What turns you on when someone kisses you?”

Timmy let out a moan before he could stop himself, honestly not realizing that he’d been pulling Armie closer by his hair; by where he had reached out to touch probably only seconds ago.

“Your neck?” Armie asked, boldly kissing Timmy over his pulse on his right side of his long neck. He moved back so they could see each other properly for a second.

Timmy tried to say ‘yes’ or at least indicate it, but he was too busy being stunned; unable to not feel a buzzing sensation where this man had just pressed his lips to Timmy’s neck.

“I’ll assume your silence means yes. Let’s do this.”

Then they were kissing again, both moving forward now; trying to get closer. Timmy pulled lightly on the hair in his fist, angling Armie’s head so he could control the kiss; put him where he wanted him. But then Armie pressed down with his big fingers on Timmy’s pulse point, punching all the air out of his lungs and making them break apart.

Armie was back in a second though, not letting Timmy shrink away. They somehow ended up lying down in the grass, Armie practically straddling Timmy’s waist; a leg thrown half way over Timmy’s hip.

Timmy kept thinking how warm Armie was, how much of him there was to touch and explore. He imagined how Elio would feel, rolling around in the grass with Oliver, right out in the open like this. Elio would have melted, probably would have spontaneously combusted with lust. Elio would have come in his shorts.

“He’s gone.” Armie was saying, making Timmy snap his eyes back open and look around.

Luca was gone, nowhere to be seen. How long had they been making out? 

“Shit.” Timmy sighed, laying back down in the grass. He closed his eyes, trying to slow his breathing down; trying to get out of Elio’s head and back into his own.

“Looks like you have a problem.” Armie chuckled, also laying back down; propping his head up on his hand and facing Timmy.

“What?” Timmy asked, not understanding.

Armie looked down, biting his bottom lip while smiling. Timmy looked down too, still entirely confused.

Until he saw how tented the front of his shorts were.

“Fuck!” He yelped, turning onto his stomach and hiding his face in his hands; further embarrassed by how the pressure on his groin sent a wave of arousal through his whole body.

When the _fuck_ had that happened?

“I’m seriously _so_ sorry, man.” He muttered, feeling his face redden. “I wasn’t…I don’t…fucking hell. Just murder me.”

Armie laughed again, but this time it sounded different. It sounded fond, not mocking. It didn’t sound like he was uncomfortable or about to say how much of a freak Timmy was.

Then Timmy felt Armie shift closer, their arms touching.

“I’m also having that same problem, if it makes you feel any better.”

It didn’t make Timmy feel better. All that confession did was make Timmy want to look down, made him want to reach out and _touch_ which was fucking insane because he didn’t like other men. He’d never once had a fantasy about other boys.

Never.

At all.

 _God_ , he couldn’t even lie to himself.

“Don’t say that.” Timmy panted, the temptation to move his hips into the ground becoming too much to resist.

“Can’t help it.” Armie whispered, too close now; his hand wrapped around Timmy’s small bicep.

“This is crazy.” Timmy managed, finally catching Armie’s eye again. “We aren’t Elio and Oliver. And if you’re playing a fucking _game_ right now…”

Armie moved so quickly that it cut Timmy off mid-sentence. He grabbed Timmy and pulled him up-right, making him straddle the older man’s hips. Armie grasped at his thighs until Timmy got the message and thrust down against him. They let out long groans at the same time.

“Not playing,” Armie said, his grip on Timmy nearing painful. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I’m not playing with you.”

The thought that they were out in someone’s backyard in broad daylight, with a bunch of crew around the corner, definitely popped into Timmy’s head. There was a serious possibility of someone coming back and seeing them like this; seeing Timmy straddling a _married man_ who was his co-star.

They really, _really,_ should stop this.

Like right now.

“Nobody is there.” Armie panted, pushing his hips up. “I…”

“This is…crazy!” Timmy whispered, leaning forward now; elbows resting next to Armie’s head as they breathed into each other’s mouths. “What the fuck are we…”

“I don’t know. Stop talking.”

Timmy shut up. He licked his lips, still moving his body slightly, the friction _divine,_ fully intending to start kissing again; wanting that mouth back on his.

But then Armie’s phone started ringing, the sound shrill in the still, hazy air.

They looked at each other for a long second, eyes wide; recognition dawning on them both. Where they were. What they were doing. _Who_ they were doing it with. And then Timmy bolted up, on his feet quicker than he thought possible.

“I…uh…I’ll just…” He stammered, pointing in the direction of the house as he turned and walked away.

Well, more like _ran_ away.

He made it pretty far by the time Armie pulled his phone out, but Timmy didn’t miss Armie’s ‘hey sweetheart’ as he answered; his voice kind and loving because _holy fuck he is someone’s husband._

Timmy leaned against the wall of the villa, away from view of both Armie and their director and crew. They were supposed to film something today. The scene where Elio is playing guitar. But how was he supposed to do that now?

How could he do anything now that _everything_ had changed?

**

“Look, we got carried away.” Armie said as a way of greeting an hour later, slamming a glass of lemonade down on the glass table in front of Timmy.

Timmy jumped a little due to the fact that he’d been asleep in the lounge chair, waiting for Luca to tell him it was time to start.

“But, I don’t want this to…I don’t know…” Armie sat in the other chair facing Timmy, running a hand over his mouth. “I don’t want you to think of me in a weird way. I’m not some fucking _creep.”_

“What the fuck?” Timmy blurted out, managing to sit up. “I don’t think that.”

“I wouldn’t blame you.” Armie muttered, looking disappointed in himself.

“We…we got carried away. Like you said. I don’t know.” Timmy shrugged, wishing so fucking desperately that he could shrug this off; that he could just be casual about it, the way Oliver would have.

_So we made out and got hard. So what that you’re married._

_So what._

“It happens, right?” Timmy tried, eyebrows raised in question.

“What happens?”

Shit. Now he was going to start blushing.

“I mean, getting…excited? Making out with someone for a movie and then…” Timmy gestured with his hands, unable to say the words.

Unable to say, _I got so hard and became Elio in that second. I became a desperate boy who would have died if we’d continued._

“Pfft.” Armie sniggered, the sound ugly. “Not really. _No,_ actually. I’ve never gotten… _excited_ before. But then again I’ve never rehearsed like that in front of a director who was basically trying to get us to fuck so we don’t feel awkward touching on screen.”

Timmy spat out the lemonade he had started drinking, inhaling some into his lungs.

“Shit. Sorry. _Sorry.”_ Armie said, instantly on his feet; instantly touching Timmy’s back in what was meant to be soothing. “God. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m fucking stupid.”

“Will you…” Timmy gasped, trying to clear his throat. “Will you _stop?_ Stop making it out like you’re some awful person. I kissed you back. I did it and wanted it so _stop.”_

Armie was quiet for a long moment, slowly standing up and walking back to his chair. Timmy watched him carefully, not knowing what to do now. He didn’t want this to complicate everything. He wanted the ease they had found together. He wanted their conversation that flowed naturally, the way Armie’s face lit up when they talked about anything.

He wanted their friendship.

“Okay. _Okay._ Let’s just…finish this day.” Armie smiled, wiping his brow of sweat. “And then go back to mine tonight and play some mindless video games.”

**

**Now**

Timmy had started breathing properly again. His heartrate had returned to normal. He was all right.

But he hadn’t let go of Armie yet; hadn’t found the strength to get out of his lap and put the right amount of space between them. Friends didn’t sit like this together. Friends didn’t know everything about the other’s body, like how Timmy knew that if he ran his hands softly through Armie’s hair it calmed the older man down. But if he pulled just a _little,_ it could turn him on immediately.

“You told me about your hair that day.” Timmy whispered, his voice rough from crying.

“Hm?” Armie frowned.

“You said it turned you on when I pulled your hair.” Timmy said, placing one small kiss on Armie’s temple. “Why did you tell me that? I never asked.”

They hadn’t spoken about that day. Not at all. Not through any of the other scenes; much more intimate scenes where Oliver had been on top of Elio. Or when Elio had basically climbed Oliver like a tree because he couldn’t quite believe Oliver liked him back.

They’d made it through those scenes without a word; without any sort of awkwardness or ‘excitement.’ It was never those scenes that were hard to film.

It was scenes like today. Scenes where Oliver stared at Elio, or Elio had to stare at Oliver and Timmy _couldn’t_ forget. He couldn’t forget that Armie was his Oliver; that Elio was a second skin and Timmy could practically inflate Elio’s lungs when he breathed.

It was days like today when Timmy felt that same pain. The pain Elio had attempted to ignore. The pain that came from fear. Fear of the knowledge that this would all end. Oliver would leave.

Timmy would leave.

This would all just be a memory.

“I wanted you to know.” Armie said at last. “In case we didn’t…in case we couldn’t _feel_ it.”

Timmy wanted to laugh. He’d _always_ felt it. He’d always known where to touch, _how_ to touch. He’d always been drawn to Armie.

“I’m sorry.” Timmy said, closing his eyes. He needed to move. He needed to make Armie leave so he could try and put himself back together.

“Don’t ever apologize to me.” Armie snapped, sounding angry now.

But when Timmy looked back up he saw tears, not a frown or an angry glare. Seeing him like this made Timmy realize that he wouldn’t be able to put anything back together. Nothing would be the way it was before.

And he wished he’d known that _this_ is what it was like; that he’d had any previous experience with this.

This heartbreak.

This _love_.

But this was a love unreachable. This is what it was to be between always and never. Between having and not-having. Timmy would never know life with this love, never see it to fruition. They would never be together properly, kiss outside of filming. They hadn’t done anything at all. It was an unspoken agreement. The feelings were there but not acted on.

There were lines people couldn’t cross. Not when the person you loved belonged to someone else.

“I’ll miss you.”

**

**November 2017**

“Who wouldn’t fall in love with this guy?” Timmy practically shouted, slapping Armie on the chest as a bunch of people chuckled appropriately; their smiles broad despite Timmy’s awkwardness.

Fucking Christ. Had he just said that _again_ on TV?

On _Ellen?_

This was a story he’d told before. He was always gushing about Armie; his grace, his mentorship. Their immediate friendship. Timmy knew it by heart. It was the truth, of course, that Armie was amazing.

But what was also true, _again,_ was the falling in love thing.

It had been a year. _Over_ a year. And nothing had changed. Fuck, Timmy had barely seen Armie before all the press started. They’d talked a few times. Texted lots of ‘how are you’ and ‘have a good day.’

He thought his feelings would have lessened. He’d been so busy filming multiple movies. Making out with lots of other people. Sleeping with some, on the side. He had a girlfriend for two months. She was sweet.

But he didn’t love her.

And nothing could have prepared him for the types of stories they were telling to promote Call Me By Your Name. It always came back to their chemistry, filming the love scenes, how they felt about the other.

Timmy had lost count of how many times he’d blushed when Armie had complimented him. Or how many times he’d sat in a chair with a microphone in his hand, his heart beating too quickly, unable to stop fidgeting. All because of the closeness of their bodies. How often Armie touched him. How often he reached over to touch Armie.

During the last interview, Timmy had to excuse himself at one point because he’d felt sick to his stomach. He puked up his hotel breakfast, clinging to the toilet in the bathroom, trying so hard to blame it on food poisoning. Must have been something in the fruit bowl.

Must have.

“I’ll take you back to your room.” Armie offered, wiping Timmy’s forehead with a paper towel. Timmy could see how concerned Armie was but he ignored it. He didn’t want to read into it.

“No. I’m good.”

“ _No,_ you’re not.”

“Stop acting like my fucking parent.” Timmy snapped, shrugging him off. He straightened out his jacket and shook his head, trying to find himself. Trying to get through this fucking day so he could sleep.

“Tim…” Armie began, sighing deeply. “You’re burning out. I’m fucking worried about you. Can you please let me help?”

“You can’t help me.” Timmy snapped, turning away. He looked out the window, trying to focus on the cars in the street. He usually liked watching traffic, listening to the commotion of a large city. But right now it just made him dizzy, made him too aware of the stillness in the room; the weight of what sat between him and Armie.

“You can’t help me because this has turned into a huge movie. And that means press. And awards. And interviews where we have to talk about it again and again, as if it happened to someone else. As if it was so fucking easy to leave it and come back to… _this.”_ Timmy said, punching the words out before he lost his nerve.

“I’m happy that people like it. I’m grateful they think we did a good job. But I…” Timmy shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. “I just want it to be over.”

Armie tried to pull Timmy into a hug, but Timmy pulled away.

“Timmy, _please_ let me.”

“No. I want you to, but we can’t. It’ll just…kill me.” Timmy smiled sadly, intentionally quoting the film; wanting Armie to understand.

“I’m so fucking sorry this is what happened. I think about it every day. I think about _you_ every day.” Armie whispered, sounding as desperate as Timmy felt; sounding like it was also hard to get the words out. “But I…I can’t just leave my…”

“Stop.” Timmy pleaded. “Please stop.”

“We have to talk!”

“No, we don’t!”

“Why won’t you let me? _Why_ are you pushing me away? Are we not even friends anymore?” Armie asked, eyes wide. “You have barely spoken to me. Even when you visited us, you were distant and cold. You wouldn’t play games with us. With _me._ I can’t…”

“ _Stop.”_

Timmy needed to finish the interview. They needed to get this done. He couldn’t let Armie pull him apart by analyzing this thing between them; the charged something and yet _nothing_ sitting on both their chests.

Maybe there shouldn’t be anything. Not even friendship. Part of Timmy wanted to cut Armie off. Christmas cards once a year. That’s all.

But there would always be this movie; the evidence.

“You know I love you, right?” Armie said, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Stop.” Timmy cried, back against the wall now; a last attempt to shield himself.

“I _do.”_

“ _Please.”_

“I need you to know that. I need you to understand that this isn’t easy for me either. And it’s fucking complicated but I can’t…Timmy, I can’t fucking _lose_ you.”

Armie was pressed against him now, the body heat nice against Timmy’s front. Armie was running a hand through his hair, trying to get him to raise his face. But he was resisting. Timmy didn’t want to kiss him like this, when they were too desperate and sad to think clearly. 

“Um, guys?”

The soft, female voice sounded apologetic. Timmy turned to look and saw the woman who was in charge of getting them to their right places gazing at them.

“We’re coming.” Timmy said, trying to smile. Trying to seem like it was totally normal for Armie to be pinning him to the wall with his hips.

“Thanks.” She said, leaving quickly.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep watching you walk away from me.” Armie said, pushing harder; cutting off a bit of Timmy’s air now.

It stunned him into silence, looking up and into those eyes he’d spent so many hours trying to forget.

How wrong he’d been.

“I don’t know what to do.” Timmy whispered, letting himself go for a moment; letting the tension leave his body as he sagged against the taller man.

“Just let me hold you. Can we start with that?” Armie asked, placing a kiss on Timmy’s cheek.

“Okay.”

**

Ellen hugged them goodbye, her eyes wide and genuine. Timmy could tell she was sometimes a shy person too; sometimes slipped and stumbled through her interviews when she felt uncomfortable.

He still wasn’t over her calling him ‘sexy.’

“She’s right, you know.” Armie smiled, walking with his hands in his pockets as they strolled down the street.

“Hm?” Timmy frowned.

“About you being sexy.”

Timmy inhaled sharply, hoping the sound wasn’t too loud. But it was quiet outside, the streets somewhat deserted and of course Armie could read him like an open book.

“You’re surprised that I agree?” He asked, touching Timmy’s elbow to slow down their pace.

 **“** Yes.”

_No._

“Timmy, come on.” Armie whispered, shielding Timmy with his larger-than-life shoulders; making him feel safe. “ _How_ can you still not know?”

Timmy knew. He _did._ It wasn’t about that.

What was still new, still so fresh, was that he was allowing himself to believe that this _might_ happen. There might be something else.

Some chance to _act_ on these feelings trapped against his heart. A chance to not be Oliver and Elio for the rest of existence, stuck in their comas and choking on regrets.

Timmy didn’t want to die regretting anything.

“I know. I _know.”_ Timmy finally said, not giving a shit anymore about holding back.

Without cameras, without a script, without the pressure of being someone else, Timmy wrapped his arms around Armie’s waist and leaned up to press a kiss to his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/feedback welcome and appreciated! :)
> 
> Come say hi  
> [here](http://photographer-of-thoughts.tumblr.com/)  
> <3


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